


Snitches And Talkers Get Stitches And Walkers

by 8BitSkeleton



Category: Funhaus (Video Blogging RPF)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fake AH Crew, FakeHaus, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 22:14:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5802154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8BitSkeleton/pseuds/8BitSkeleton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story gets tangled up in Lawrence's head but there's one thing that sticks out: Lawrence saving Adam's life and Lawrence falling half in love with him happened at almost exactly the same time. </p><p>(From the anonymous prompt on my blog: "scenario: fakehaus kovntag where lawrence is the medic of a rival gang and adam is his newest (secret bc rivals) patient")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snitches And Talkers Get Stitches And Walkers

**Author's Note:**

> it's all in lowercase because this was supposed to be 500 words maximum. i fucked up.

lawrence has a small clinic he uses mainly for his underground work. it’s pretty discreet, almost at the edge of town, practically just a shed, and while he’s on the fake AH payroll, he’s technically not an active member of the team and they only use him for when things go bad, _really bad_ , or when they need a torture victim stitched up for another round, or, if they’re in a pinch, they send lawrence out to do scouting for them because fake AH believes in maximizing the utilization of their workforce.

it’s 2am and lawrence says goodbye to geoff, jack, and michael who walk out the door with a few stitches each because they were doing work “in the neighborhood, i won’t go into specifics,” geoff says and winces as lawrence pulls the needle, “but i can tell you it went pretty good.”

michael swings his legs as he jumps off his seat on lawrence’s counters and he gives lawrence a pat on the shoulder as he exits, says, “see ya later, buddy,”

lawrence says, “i’d say come back later but that would sound like i’m wishing harm on you.”

jack snorts and says, “just remember who signs your paychecks.”

“just remember what my source of income depends on.” lawrence shoots back and leans on the zinc panel siding of his glorified shed.

they don’t respond and lawrence watches their car lights get smaller as they wind their way down the street and into the city.

he’s cleaning up his tools and table when he hears a thump at his door, a drawn out slide, like a hand being dragged over it, and he reaches under his cabinet, pulls out his gun, cocks it.

he opens his door fast, knows the layout behind it by memory, hopes to take any attacker by surprise–

what he finds is the slumped body of a man against the wall next to his door. the man has short hair, a beard, wears dark clothes, has a bloody hand pressed into his side, a shaky gun pointed at lawrence’s face. lawrence notes the messy stripes of blood down the door that mark the man’s passing, like warding off biblical evil. (or warding off death in this man’s case; he looks destroyed, even with how he holds his gun and his face, a grimace poorly containing his pain.)

the man’s gun hand drops and lawrence’s own gun hand wavers.

the man says, “fuck,” and slides the gun over. “go ahead and finish me off.”

at that, lawrence blinks, furrows his brow, looks at the gun at his feet. he lowers his gun, puts the safety on it.

“no.” he says, decisively. “can you walk?”

the man huffs a humourless laugh, “no.”

it takes some fumbling and tripping but lawrence gets the man inside and onto his table. by the time lawrence gets the man’s shirt cut open to inspect the gash on his side, the man is sweating profusely, has gone pale as a sheet.

lawrence slaps the man’s face lightly, seeks out his unfocused eyes, says, “stay with me.”

he slips on a pair of gloves and takes out his half washed tools, looks at the barely conscious man again and says, “this is going to hurt,” before pouring alcohol on the main wound.

the man lets out a brief scream but stays awake and he utters no more whimpers, and lawrence makes note that he is used to pain. not a fan of it, but used to it.

lawrence stitches him shut and can’t keep himself from asking, “bad night?” while makes note of the countless other scars and wounds the man has (bruised ribs, split lip, black eye, knuckles cut open, knees scratched where his pants have torn away).

the man grimaces, says, “i’ve had better and i’ve had worse.”

lawrence continues in silence from then on. when he’s done, the man only asks, “you have any whiskey?”

lawrence decides he likes the cut of his jib. he shares his vodka with him.

the man ends up passing out on lawrence’s operation table with lawrence on a chair he has in the corner, the vodka bottle on the floor between them lays empty.

 

* * *

 

when morning comes, lawrence wakes up to the man trying to sneak out but failing to stand up properly.

lawrence’s doctor alarm goes off, he rushes over to make sure the stitches aren’t torn (they are) and he helps the man get back on his table, says “don’t move.”

the man’s mouth makes a hard line but he sits still.

once lawrence repairs his stitches the man sits up again and lawrence almost pushes him back down.

“no sudden movements unless you want to be back to bleeding out outside my office again.”

the man poorly contains his eye roll and he says, “yeah, not my first time at the doctor.”

“sure seems like it. lie _down_.” this time lawrence does push him down. “you need to stay put for a few more hours, preferably days. getting revenge on whoever gave you that wound can wait a few weeks.”

the man groans, “i wish i had the time.”

lawrence scoffs. “listen, that wound is not something you should have survived. odds are the person who left you for dead thinks you are _dead_. now calm down before i give you a tranquilizer.”

the man reluctantly stays still. lawrence washes his hands and, without looking at the man, says, “my name isn’t plastered on the door like any other doctor you’d go to, so, my name is lawrence. what’s yours?” he turns back and sees the hesitation on the man’s face, adds, “i just saved your life, i think you owe me a name.”

the man’s frame slumps and he murmurs, “adam, my name is adam.”

lawrence smiles, “nice to put a name to the ruggedly handsome face. should we get breakfast?”

adam doesn’t look at at lawrence when he says, “i look like shit.”

“so, like… pancakes?”

 

* * *

 

adam borrows one of lawrence’s shirts and they go to a mcdonald’s drive through. lawrence buys and adam criticizes his music choices, eats like it’s his last meal, and steals a car after they’re done. lawrence makes joke a about not having his number “to check up on your stitches!” he says when adam is getting out of the car.

adam rolls the eye that isn’t swollen shut and replies with a dry, if not ominous, “i know where you work.”

lawrence can’t get out the words to tell him that he isn’t in the shed all the time before adam slams the door shut, half limps to a crappy car, and smashes its window. lawrence remarks to himself over the anime opening he’s listening to that he likes how his flannel looks on adam.

he shows up to the shed every day for a week before adam shows up again in a totally different car.

“your eye is better,” lawrence mentions as adam hops onto lawrence’s exam table, and adam holds out a folded bundle of flannel.

“blood free and fresh pressed,” adam says as he pushes it into lawrence’s hands.

lawrence thanks him and asks him to take off his shirt.

adam raises an eyebrow, mumbles something about buying him dinner, and lawrence jabs back with their breakfast together.

adam is healing but the gash is still tender. lawrence roots around his drug drawer™ and brings out some antibacterials and painkillers. “i don’t think these are a priority because it’s been a week but just in case. i kind of still want to hear the story of how you fell on my doorstep so this is just a precaution. just so you don’t die before then.”

adam scoffs but takes the drugs anyway. lawrence doesn’t know if he imagines the hesitant look adam gets when he’s about to leave.

lawrence sighs at missed opportunities and picks up his things. he’s in his car when the pocket of the flannel adam had given him back starts vibrating.

lawrence smiles as he answers the burner phone adam slipped him.

“so, you said you wanted to hear my story?” adam says in lieu of a hello

“only if it would get made into a lifetime tv movie.”

“it would, and it’ll cost ya.”

“name a negotiable price.”

“dinner?”

“i thought that was non-negotiable already.”

 

* * *

 

they go to dinner. lawrence spent an hour picking out his clothes and they have a very good dinner, only mention their lives of violence once, and lawrence does indeed get the story he asked for, but only when they’re looking out at the ocean, sat on the dark beach after walking ten blocks to it and not realizing where they were going (too wrapped up in each other).

adam exhales deeply and only barely looks at lawrence when he speaks, “so, apparently, the fake AH crew doesn’t like it when you try to start a crew in their territory.”

lawrence’s blood runs cold.

“they got me trying to recruit this freelancer they’d worked with before. i’ve known a few from fake AH for a while and we’d been on… okay terms but i should’ve known how they’d react. it was a dumb thing to almost get killed over.”

lawrence swallows hard the atmosphere of comfort he had been building all night has evaporated in this instant, sucked away with a sharp mention of his employers. it strikes him that he treated michael, jack, and geoff the same night he found adam, and _lawrence can barely breathe_ — “did–did you get any of them?”

adam sighs, “no, but i broke a glass ceiling on them? i almost didn’t get away but i guess they weren’t worried about me being a threat anymore. they didn’t chase me down or anything. left me to die, i think.”

lawrence laughs, dryly. “guess you’ll take your revenge now, right?”

adam gives him a _look_ and lawrence’s heart hurts with how he recognizes the feelings _behind_ the look— “no. i was actually going to leave town after i left you on the morning after but…” adam licks his lips and lawrence fails at trying not to stare. “i had to give you your shirt back.”

and adam is _so close_ to lawrence that lawrence stops breathing so he doesn’t feel compelled to memorize his scent. adam kisses him anyway and lawrence kind of melts, breathes in, melts some more.

he is so _royally_ fucked.

 

* * *

 

lawrence dodges a few calls from adam the following week, just enough that he can pass off as being busy but not avoiding him completely.

yet adam still shows up on the fifth day under the cover of night, in a hoodie, leaning against a _different_ car when lawrence exits the shed for the night. (the crew had called and told him to be on standby, just in case. nothing happened but his nerves were still frazzled.)

he takes one look at adam and jumps out of his skin, “jesus, adam, if you kill me you won’t have anyone to take those stitches out.”

adam’s jaw clenches. “you’re the one who wanted dinner. why are you avoiding me?”

lawrence shifts his gaze away, hurries to his car, fumbles with his keys, “i’m not.”

“okay,” adam says and approaches lawrence. “so why are you avoiding me and _lying_ to me about it?”

lawrence takes in adam’s scent and turns to him, looks him in the eyes where he’s way closer than lawrence expected him, and— “you’d hate me if you knew.”

adam’s eyes turn soft, and his voice mirrors it, “lawrence. i think it’s clear that i like you.”

lawrence feels the vice clamp around his chest, “i like you too, adam.”

adam contains his smile and asks, “then what’s wrong?”

lawrence wishes that this wasn’t his life.

he drops his bag, his tools sounding in the quiet of the shed’s isolation. his hands grip the shoulders of adam’s hoodie desperately as he presses in close and kisses adam like adam saved his life, not the other way around.

adam sighs against his lips, kisses back with fervor matching lawrence.

(lawrence would like to retract his previous statement. his life is pretty good in this moment.)

they make out pressed against lawrence’s car and adam gives him a hickey, presses their half hard dicks together. lawrence moans, softly, and is really, _really_ thankful that this is his life in this moment. they rut together like desperate teenagers, lawrence sliding his hands into adam’s back pockets for a better angle, and adam moans out his name. lawrence almost blows his load right there but thankfully he doesn’t, not yet, because then adam is extricating himself from lawrence’s grip and sinking down to his knees on the dirt next to the shed and _oh god, is this really happening—?_

adam doesn’t stop seeking his gaze out, even as he takes lawrence’s dick out and licks the underside of it. adam makes eye contact even as he gags when lawrence bottoms out at the back of his throat and tears spring at the corners of his eyes.

lawrence really thanks the universe for this moment.

he comes when he sees adam fumbling with his own belt, getting his own dick out  he holds adam’s jaw and watches as adam lets the head of lawrence’s dick lay on the tip of his tongue, his free hand covering the shaft, giving it soft licks as lawrence comes hard, ribbons of white lining adam’s tongue and beard, reaching his cheeks and forehead.

lawrence collapses shakily in front of adam and his hands bat adam’s away from his leaking cock. lawrence spits in his hand, grabs adam’s dick, and swallows his moan with a kiss, lawrence getting cum on his face as well.

adam doesn’t last long, and he goes stiff when he’s about to come, then limp when his cum stains the front of his shirt and covers lawrence’s hand.

their afterglow is sweet if not sticky.

lawrence kisses adam again, softly, and offers to help clean adam up. adam takes him up on the offer and lawrence takes him back inside and scrubs at the stain on adam’s shirt while adam scrubs soap into his beard.

lawrence has three false starts of “so…” before he clears his throat and goes for it, “i mean, i know you’re probably hiding from the fake AH crew. maybe my place will be good to hide out in? they most likely do not know where i live.” which is a lie and it makes lawrence feel even guiltier, but adam smiles softly and raises his eyebrows.

“nice and subtle way of asking me to spend the night. it could use a little tweaking.”

lawrence asks, half serious, “well, did it work?”

“i’ll let you know later.” adam answers and pulls back, walks towards the door, and only looks back when he notices lawrence isn’t following him. “you gonna give me a ride or should i follow your car?”

lawrence bites back a smile, “i will allow you to be my passenger for the evening.”

 

* * *

 

halfway to lawrence’s apartment, adam admits to lawrence that he hasn’t been back to his house yet. the fake AH crew is anything if not careful, and adam had noticed that he had a crew member staking his place out. maybe they weren’t too sure if adam had died, or maybe they wanted to catch whatever remains of ‘the crew that could’ve been,’ as adam called it, coming back to pick up where adam left off.

either way, adam had stolen only his car back and he was immensely proud of the fact that he had not gotten caught by the fakes doing so.

lawrence breathes through the tightness in his throat.

they go up to lawrence’s modest apartment and adam comments on his balcony. lawrence stops himself from asking if adam would like to move in when he sees adam’s silhouette marked against the lights of the city behind him, like he belongs there.

adam borrows more of lawrence’s clothes and cuddles up to lawrence when they go to sleep. lawrence falls asleep in record time and when he wakes up and sees adam’s breath rise and fall in his chest, he feels his own chest swell and soar with affection. he reviews just how _fucked_ he is.

he makes adam an omelette, almost kisses him good morning, takes a call from geoff.

on the balcony, as adam sits on _his_ couch wearing _his_ pajama bottoms and dumb old t-shirt, he hears geoff say “early day today. got a torture victim needs that stitches. the faster you get here, the better, don’t know if this guy’ll last.”

lawrence nods, answers, “you got it, boss.”

adam smiles at lawrence when he comes back in. lawrence hates his life all over again. “gotta go. early call.”

adam nods, “okay. no promises i won’t read your diary.”

“if you can even find it,” lawrence shoots back, hoping for a smooth day and an epiphany about this hellish situation.

 

* * *

 

when lawrence pulls his car up to the shed, geoff and the vagabond are holding a sagging body between them and the three of them are leaning on the hood of _adam’s car._

lawrence almost has a panic attack at the sight alone.

he takes a breath, adjusts the pistol at the back of his pants, and exits the car, acting as nonchalant as possible.

“so,” he asks, approaching, “what do we have?”

the slumped man groans as lawrence lifts his chin to look into his eyes, which are clear, but half closed in pain. the man is short, has cropped hair, a sharp nose, an impressive beard. his gaze, even in pain, looks serious, smart.

lawrence can’t stop himself from asking, “who is this guy?” and he pretends not to notice how the man _doesn’t_ need stitches, pretends to be checking the man’s dislocated shoulder as geoff raises an eyebrow.

“see, that’s a funny fuckin’ story. we kidnapped this guy,” geoff jostles the man’s body violently, “because we thought he could tell us where the guy we were chasing the other day went. turns out that matt here did _not_ know where adam is,” lawrence takes a step back at the mention of adam’s name, geoff barrels on “but what do you know? our own medic has kovic’s car right on his front lawn! guess that clears that up.”

lawrence feels the gun heavy at his waistband. with the vagabond here, there’s no way he’d pull it out and survive more than three seconds, so he does the second best thing he can.

he talks.

“geoff, i think there’s been an incredible misunderstanding.”

geoff nods stiffly, “oh, yeah?”

“yeah. i found my place ransacked the other day, actually. i think it might’ve been this adam guy you were talking about. he must’ve come back to score some drugs or something. maybe he’s in there right now. have you checked?”

geoff looks skeptical, and lawrence will take it. he needs skeptical right now, he needs _doubting_ if he’ll live through this.

“place was locked.” the vagabond says, and it’s one of the few times lawrence has heard his voice; it’s a warm voice, a chilling contrast to his stark black mask.

the vagabond’s words throw lawrence a bit but he recovers, fishes his keys out of his pocket. “there was a hole in the roof. he must have gotten in like raccoons, which was my first thought. only, the place didn’t smell like shit.” he walks over to the shed door and unlocks it.

“let’s just clear this up right now,” lawrence says. “can the vagabond check inside and see if your wanted man is still there? if not, we have his car. can’t have gotten far. i’ll patch this guy up and you can continue your business, everybody is happy.”

geoff still looks doubtful, and lawrence has to hold a slight smile for what feels like _ages_ , completely tense, before geoff nods at the waiting vagabond. “go.”

the vagabond releases matt’s arm and draws his gun. lawrence rushes to support matt again and he can see the tight line in geoff’s jaw, can almost feel the tension rising in the moment—

the vagabond pushes the door open and slips inside with his gun drawn.

lawrence lets out a deep breath, visualizes the attack, and strikes.

things happen very slowly for lawrence, then. he yanks matt away from geoff with all his might and hears matt’s second shoulder pop out, hears his pain cry. geoff reacts a second too late to the movement, because lawrence has an opening to swing his fist into geoff’s windpipe. geoff’s hands reach for his throat as he wheezes in surprise and lawrence leaps for the shed door, slams it shut before the vagabond can react. he fumbles briefly with his keys when he locks it and turns back to geoff, kneeled over on the dirt, and matt—

matt has geoff’s gun held between his hands, pointed at geoff’s head, and lawrence pauses for a just a second, but it’s long enough that matt yells at him with a hoarse voice, “ _go!_ ”

lawrence moves again, scoops matt up as best he can and jogs to his car, throws matt into the passenger seat while his heart thumps in his throat. geoff is getting his bearings back and the vagabond shoots the lock off the door, and lawrence’s stomach is in knots—

he peels out of the lot in a cloud of dust, leaving with a few bullets stuck in his car’s trunk.

 

* * *

 

when he gets to his apartment, adam smiles at him before his face falls at lawrence’s mussed up appearance.

“fuck, what happened?”

lawrence barrels past, into his bedroom, where he takes out his duffel and starts stuffing it with guns, money, clothes. “fake AH found us. we have to go, _now_.”

“fuck,” adam scrubs his face and leans against the wall, “fuck, i am so fucking sorry i dragged you into this. this is the last thing i want—”

lawrence stops, makes a decision. “listen, adam—”

“i’ll turn myself over and tell them to leave you alone. i’ll go to their headquarters right now and—”

“ _adam—_ ”

“ _lawrence_.”

lawrence sighs and sits on his bed, pushes his glasses up. “adam, i worked for the fake AH crew.”

adam says nothing, stares openly at lawrence.

“goddamn, i am sorry i didn’t tell you earlier.”

adam says _nothing_.

“please say something. i’m really fucking sorry.”

adam licks his lips. “i… kind of figured.”

lawrence does a double take, “what?”

adam smiles sadly, “you had a clinic in the middle of nowhere disguised as a shed.”

lawrence blinks. “okay, yeah, that’s fair.”

adam takes a step forward, lifts a hand with intention to stroke lawrence’s face only to drop it again. “but… you chose me. you’re willing to run away. with me. _for_ me.”

lawrence feels the affection in his chest again, “what if i’m tricking you and they’re waiting for you? what if this is a trap?”

adam licks his lips again, takes another step forward and properly touches lawrence’s face this time. “it isn’t. it’s you.”

lawrence gulps down a sob.

a soft beat passes through them, one of understanding and trust and—

adam’s face turns stony then. “we have to go. i’ll change in the car.” and he moves with such a purpose that it clicks lawrence back into the urgency of the moment.

they jog out into the lot where lawrence left his car idling when—

“adam?”

adam stops dead in his tracks at the hoarse mention of his name. he looks through the window of the passenger seat at— “matt? what the fuck?”

lawrence tosses adam his duffel and adam groans as it hits his stomach. it makes matt smile though.

“picked up a stray,” lawrence says and slides into the car.

adam picks up the duffel and slides into the backseat. he recovers from his shock enough to smile at matt and pat his head. “i’m only letting you have shotgun because you look like shit. what happened to you, man?”

“fake AH crew.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

lawrence slams on the acceleration and backs his car into the street, barely missing a car.

they make their way out of the city pretty much unscathed, and it’s not until lawrence sees no more buildings higher than two stories that he relaxes, just a tad.

matt speaks once the tension goes down, once they’re in the mountains.

“so, adam?”

“yeah?”

“about that crew you wanted to make.”

“oh, god.”

“i mean, it wasn’t really my choice, but i think i’m in.”

 

* * *

 

two years later and a city away, the fakehaus crew rises to start a rivalry with the fake AH crew by spray painting _fake AH droolz_ on the brick wall of their headquarters.

**Author's Note:**

> [look ma, im a blogger](http://shiphaus.co.vu/)


End file.
